


The World Keeps Spinning

by EpiKatt



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Episode: s01e07 The Breaking Point, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Pneumonia, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EpiKatt/pseuds/EpiKatt
Summary: Instead of getting sick in Hagenau, Lip gets laid up in Bastogne and the beginning of his relationship with Speirs takes a different turn.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	The World Keeps Spinning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello. I wrote all of this in an hour and a half like damn wtf lol. Anyway this is my first work in the fandom but I have watched the show twice this month and have read a lot of fics so I think I'm allowed to be here. 
> 
> If you're here from my COD fic I'm sorry you have to see this.  
> Unbeta'd yada yada yada.
> 
> Title from Theory of a Deadman.

Captain Dike’s absence was grating. Lipton found the stretches between last sightings were getting longer and longer the longer and longer they found themselves in this frozen hell. Lipton knew the man had been an empty uniform from the start, the vacant stare, the inability to make  _ any  _ decisions, they were all pretty good warning signs.

So when more men were being sent away for trench foot or wounds from the constant shelling, and when the men only got more and more grim, half hearted jokes turning silent and the only sound around was when men had to leave their foxhole to take a piss, Lipton knew something had to change.

Easy needed someone to lead them, and Dike wasn’t that man, so one day Lipton went around, foxhole to foxhole, and just chatted casually with the men, unknowing that he’d been leading Easy since Dike first showed up. He ignored his stiff fingers and limbs, ignored the faint tickle at the back of his throat that he was too busy to deal with and asked after some of their wives, their mothers, their latest conquests, made small talk and jokes with Guarnere, elbowed Luz when he was looking too maudlin while standing on duty at the line with a Lucky Strike hanging listlessly off his bottom lip. 

Winters had made an offhand comment about Dike, asked to speak with him about something, and on his search for the ghost he ran into Speirs for the first time since the one time in the mess hall at Currahee. 

Speirs was a man made almost entirely of rumors, of myths, of whispered fears,  _ “don’t take his cigarette, or you know,” “what do you mean?” “oh you haven’t heard?” _

Lipton was raised to never trust rumors, to always see the truth and judge a man’s character by how he saw them, not by how others did, and he loved his mama something fierce for it, because he later discovered Speirs was far better than the rumors could have ever prepared him for. 

So when he’d accidentally wandered over to Dog company, the line stretched so thin and so unorganized that they were far closer than he’d realized, he met Speirs and never wanted to leave that man’s gaze. Guilt curled in his stomach and made his frozen body warm in shame, but he’d gotten the  _ Dear John  _ papers last week and even if he still wore the ring he’d signed the papers and that was one thing to mark off the list of things to be ashamed of in that situation. The worst part was that infidelity  _ wasn’t  _ the worst part, and the guilt carried. 

But that all stopped when he’d breathlessly explained to Speirs through uncooperative lungs how he got there and Speirs had offered him a cigarette. He knew what the men said, knew they said to never take a cigarette from this enigma, but that wasn’t the reason he said no.

“Sorry, no thanks,” Lipton muttered, tucking his hands under his armpits hurriedly when the wind picked up suddenly.

He wasn’t sure why, but the disappointment on Speirs’ face, subtle as it was, made him feel obligated to at least explain why he’d rejected the offer.

“It’s not because of the rumors,” he rushed out, grimacing and turning his face to cough in the other direction. It was only getting worse and his hopes of it being a simple cold were fleeing. “It’s because I don’t smoke,” he finished awkwardly.

The slightly amused quirk of Speirs’ mouth was enough to nearly make Lipton collapse, but he quickly attributed that to the sickness he knew he was catching. He couldn’t really ignore it any longer.

That was the beginning of their friendship, because Speirs later informed him that was the most warm anyone had been toward him, which was a little ironic due to the climate at the time, and Lipton had told him that he’d lacked friends and Speirs was there. Only one of those were actually true but they pretended they both were.

Lipton did have to leave, he did have to find Dike, and after a long while of desperate searching, he finally found the man deep in the woods. He was far enough in to be almost as far from the line as possible without deserting, and after so long trekking through snow, Lipton was exhausted and a little wheezy so he wasted no time in telling the Captain to report to Winters at Battalion Headquarters.

By the time he made it back to his foxhole with Luz, his body was shaking far harder than usual and he felt like he was burning up one second and freezing even worse than the normal the next. The world was swirling around him and collapsing against the damp, peaty wall was almost as relieving as falling into the most comfortable bed that came to mind.

As soon as he was seated, he had Luz turning to look at him with furrowed brows and the most concerned look he’d ever seen on the man. “You don’t look so good, sarge,” Luz murmured. Lipton noticed he didn’t bother putting his hand to Lipton’s forehead to check his temperature. It wouldn’t have done much.

“I’ll be just fine, Luz” he muttered, voice raspy from the coughing fits he’d had to stop and stoop over for on the way back. He had to be fine, now wasn’t the time to be sick. Not with Dike still around, not while the men needed him.

Luz looked doubtful, but didn’t say anything and just slid a little closer to offer what warmth he could. Lipton couldn’t summon the words, but he was almost as grateful as if Luz had just told him the war was over and he could go home.

That night, the shelling was the worst it’d ever been. And for just a few seconds, between desperate runs foxhole to foxhole to tell the men to  _ stay down! _ While he neglected to take his own advice, ignore his labored breathing and uneven steps, he’d thought of fireworks and had smiled.

He wasn’t smiling when later he’d jumped in a foxhole with Luz and a dud had landed in their foxhole. Wasn’t smiling when shaky hands took Luz’s cigarette and took his first drag during the time he needed it least. He smoked the rest of the cigarette before the shock wore off and he curled his body into a hacking coughing fit, the taste of metal coating his tongue. 

He wasn’t smiling when he later heard the news about Muck and Penkala. He couldn’t help but feel horrible for Malarkey, even if it was war and they all had to think about the fact that they may not be there the next day, how their friend may not live to see the next beautiful morning all the men with hangovers complained about.

If Luz and he slept closer than usual that night, neither mentioned it later, and it may have been because Lipton took a turn for the worse during the night. When he woke up shaking all over but feeling warm, eyes heavy and lungs dragging in air but it felt like the air was ninety percent water and he had newborn lungs. 

Luz woke up because of Lipton’s breathing, and Lip woke up because of Luz worriedly shaking him awake, murmuring in his ear about how he was going to get Doc and Lip just nodded numbly. He wasn’t quite aware of his surroundings, and the cold around him felt secondary, like a chore he could take care of later when he felt like it. 

He could have sworn he only closed his eyes for a second, but found when he opened them he’d acquired two ratty army issued blankets. He sluggishly tilted his head and saw Doc talking with Luz outside the foxhole. Luz’s eyes found his and Doc quickly turned around. 

“What’s the diagnosis, Doc?” Lip asked hoarsely, throat feeling like he’d been eating sandpaper and drinking antiseptic in his free time. 

“On your way to pneumonia, sir. If ya don’t stay warm and dry, it’s just gonna get worse. I’d suggest going to the nearest town, a hospital if we were ever that likely, but Luz informed me that you wouldn’t leave,” Doc explained, seeming tired and resigned. Lip put a faint mental note to check up on Doc more often later, as it seemed the man needed some support.

Doc told him that he’d try and find as many spare blankets as he could, and Lip couldn’t even dredge up the energy to say they should go to the men, how he wasn’t special. He had a feeling they’d insist on him taking them anyway, so he decided not to waste the effort.

The day was filled with inconsistent shelling and foxhole jumping while Luz dragged him along a little further back from the line, despite his wheezy and cough filled objections. 

It was in the small calm near dusk that Speirs appeared right as Luz was supposed to reluctantly leave for watching the line. Luz had said he’d try to find someone to watch him, but Speirs appearing seemed to solve that problem, even if Luz wasn’t any less reluctant about leaving due to the company Lipton would be sharing.

Speirs had also managed to bring several blankets, some looking comfortably soft and thick which vaguely concerned Lip about their origins, but was quickly preoccupied with curling all the blankets under and around himself. He was still shivering, and he was still oscillating between drastic highs and lows, but the blankets and the company Luz was worried about to leave him with were helping. 

He certainly didn’t complain when Speirs slid closer, side to side, shoulder to shoulder, and took Luz’s dirty and war-torn blanket from beside him and pulled it over himself. Lip couldn’t help but be relieved he didn’t ask for one of the thicker ones. 

They sat there in silence, watching as the sun slowly went down and they counted the minutes for the next flare signalling more shells. Lip wasn’t sure how he would force himself to move, to rally the men to get a foxhole, but one glance over at Speirs contentedly smoking a cigarette next to him made him think the man would haul him down. 

It really only just occurred to him that Speirs had abandoned his own platoon for several hours and had to wonder why he hadn’t been hunted down yet. 

When the silence filled only with his ragged breathing became too much, making his head spin with the sound, he finally asked. 

“How come your men aren’t hunting you down yet, sir?” he muttered, letting out a weak cough that stung and burned, made his ribs strain. The concern he’d been avoiding nagged the back of his mind, about how he’d been giving some of his share of what little food they had to the men who’d been looking rough, how he’d had to cinch his belt tighter and tighter. Thought about how long what little reserves his body had would last. 

This time his body shaking wasn’t from cold. 

Speirs took another drag before looking over, silent stare searching him for something unspoken Lip wasn’t sure of. He’d heard countless stories about Speirs’ stares, but found being on the receiving end of one wasn’t scary, how his heart didn’t beat fast out of fear.

“I just offered them a pack of cigarettes when they asked where I was going,” he mused, voice soft but piercing the frigid air well enough to make Lip release a weak chuckle.

“Ah, I see. And what made you abandon your post anyway, sir?” Lip asked, making sure to keep his voice as level and breathing as steady as he could make it to keep from coughing. 

“Well, Doc came over to my platoon asking for blankets when I asked why. Found out you were laid up and had to see what happened.”

Lip frowned, an extra hard shiver wracking his body for a moment before he settled again. His thoughts may be.. Splintered and disjointed, and colorful in places that shouldn’t be, but even he knew that Speirs shouldn’t be interested in someone like him, in anyone after only one meeting. 

“What made you stay then, sir?”

Speirs paused, made a thoughtful sound. 

“You do know I’m not the only one with rumors, right, sergeant?”

Lip felt that even if his brain wasn’t fuzzy with fever that that sentence wouldn’t have made sense. 

“Sir?”

Speirs’ smile deepened for a moment before his face settled again. 

“The rumors that surround you are almost as good as mine are bad, sergeant. I’ve heard my men whispering stories they heard from men in Easy, about how you took shrapnel in Carentan and just kept going, about how you’ve saved so many from countless stunts. And this is just casual listening, imagine what I would hear if I went to someone like Luz and asked for more?” Speirs said, voice gentle and slightly admiring. Lip would learn, years later that Speirs had indeed gone to Luz to ask him questions, and Luz had gleefully supplied answers. 

Lip wasn’t a man used to listening to rumors, but he couldn’t help the moment of starstruckness that hit him, which he later blamed on the fever. “Um. Sir,” was all he could manage, brain processing his words like molasses through a strainer.

Speirs just did that slight smile like usual, and Lip felt a little exhilarated that he’d seen that smile to reference it with others similar. He felt Speirs pat his back gently, not hard enough to set off another fit but just good to be comforting. 

The next few days were blurry and cold, filled with shivering. Later, all he could recall were flashes of Speirs holding him when Luz had to be elsewhere, and the sound of shells too close but at the same time sounding much too far away. 

It wasn’t until after Foy, until their night in Rachamps and Lip’s lungs and body were finally on the mend that he knew. Speirs assaulted him with praise, leaving Lip confused until Speirs had clarified and for the first time in weeks, Lip’s body hadn’t flushed warm in shame, or guilt, or fever; this time it was with embarrassment. 

And while the choir had been singing and the men half asleep, he’d been tugged outside with a weak excuse to discuss what happened in Foy. And once Lip got over the fact that finally someone competent had taken over Easy, that Dike was gone for good, he promised himself that he’d give Winters a kiss or something of the like. Maybe have Captain Nixon give him a kiss, from what he’d seen Winters wouldn’t mind.

His thoughts had stuttered to a halt when Speirs pushed him up against the brick wall, the cold seeping through his clothes. 

“Sir?” he asked nervously. He didn’t believe the rumors, but he did feel a small thrill of fear shoot up his spine. It took only a few seconds for those thoughts to be alleviated when Speirs growled under his breath and surged forward to kiss Lip breathless, which wasn’t hard these days.

“Call me Ron when we’re alone,” he murmured, voice low and making something warm and all consuming pool in Lip’s stomach. 

He swallowed nervously and nodded. “Call me Carwood, then,” he replied, voice scratchy. 

The terrified looks the men gave him when they saw him take a smoke offered by Ron in Hagenau were nearly worth the fear of that dud that made him start smoking in the first place.

Glancing at Ron out of the corner of his eye in the frigid air, he finally thumbed his wedding band off inside his pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. I doubt I'll do a follow up to this as. I don't know I have a lot of other stuff to do, but I feel like this ended fairly well. This was different from how I usually write but I wanted to keep the vibe so I refused to go to bed until I was done so it would stay consistent. 
> 
> Anyway there's not enough sick Carwood fics and it's honestly a tragedy so I'm here to remedy it. Leave a kudos or a comment if you feel like it <3  
> Dedicated to my European friend even if I told her I wouldn't dedicate it to her bc she told me to write this when I was still iffy and has listened to me rant endlessly about these poor guys. Thanks <3


End file.
